No Neutral Ground: From Gaza’s Freedom Flotillas to Standing Up for Justice

This week, Israel murdered Palestinian journalist Anas al-Sharif . He was reporting in Gaza for Al Jazeera. His death sparked global outrage, yet much of Western media responded not with solidarity or truth-telling, but by echoing the narrative of Israel – a genocidal state. The brazenness is staggering — and it forces a choice on all of us. Every person, every institution, every voice is being tested. There is no neutral ground: you either uphold injustice, or you resist it. You cannot escape this moment untouched. Who would have thought we would see it so blatantly? And yet, here we are.

Last week, I wrote about Chris Small’s participation in the Gaza Freedom Flotilla — connecting how Israel targeted and abused him as the only Black person aboard to the urgent need for all of us to see the links between our struggles and step up in the fight for freedom. It’s a fight for humanity. What I didn’t mention is that Chris Smalls’ flotilla was not the first this year. Madleen paved the path just a few weeks earlier – a vessel carrying people of even greater privilege and notoriety: climate activist Greta Thunberg, French–Palestinian MEP Rima Hassan, and Irish actor Liam Cunningham. Israel’s IOF intercepted it at just 100 nautical miles from Gaza. Chris Smalls’ vessel, the second flotilla this year, reached 60 nautical miles before Israel illegally stopped it in international waters. Every single effort counts and brings us closer to breaking Israel’s siege and ending Israel’s genocide of the Palestinian people.

We have to make things difficult for the oppressor.

These voyages are part of a longer struggle: there have been six freedom flotillas to date, and right now delegations from 44 countries have committed to sail to Gaza on August 31 as part of the largest maritime mission yet to break Israel’s illegal siege. These are acts of courage that come with real risk — detention, deportation, even death. In fact, in 2010 Israel murdered 10 Freedom Flotilla activists.

The Power of Every Individual

That choice — to act despite risk — is echoed in quieter ways too. I recently saw a short video interview elderly British protesters who echoed a sentiment that acknowledged their understanding of thier own position within society and many shared that at their stage in life, they had ‘less to lose — no job to risk — so why not stand up?’ This sentiment is a powerful reminder that even what seems ordinary can become indispensable in the fight for justice.

The sentiment of these British elders is a reminder that activism doesn’t always start in youth—it can begin at any age, in any circumstance. For some, retirement brings more freedom to speak out and act boldly. That choice to use one’s position, privilege, or life stage for justice is a form of courage we don’t celebrate enough. There stories are a testament to how people can strategically use their positions. Older retired individuals might feel more empowered to protest because they no longer fear losing employment. This kind of recognition of privilege—and using it for good—is something deeply inspiring to me.

Speaking Truth in Times of Injustice

It’s a crazy and scary time. I don’t think any of us imagined that we would live in the time of a genocide. I think many of us however imagined that if we did, we would stop it. Most of us imagine ourselves to be courageous and caring people. But, in reality, most of us are cowards. True courage is hardly a virtue spoken of these days. But, it vice is cowardice, and cowardice is truly deadly. We have become so accustomed to viewing abuse of power that we as a society tricked ourselves into thinking that the witness was an act of testimony and that the testimony would in itself disrupt the injustice. We saw Black people, black bodies being hunted and killed by police and the recordings circulated over again on our screens. And, as witnesses we saw the killers get away with it again and again.

And, people kept recording it. And people kept sharing it. And sometimes crowds gathered on the scenes, and no one intervened. And, for the most part, the killers got away with it. And, now we see that on an even grander international scale.

We need to remember the purpose of the witness and the testimony. Both should call to righteous action.. So, when groups like Palestine Action disrupt the war machine, they are doing the job that the authorities say that they would do on principle, but are not doing in practice.

The work of Palestinian journalists like Anas Al Sharif (may Allah have mercy on him) reminds us that truth-telling in a time of great injustice is an act of resistance. As an artist, I see my work as part of that lineage—transforming canvas, film, and installation into spaces where truth can be seen and felt.

The worth of our actions is not measured only by outcomes, but by the sincerity of our efforts.

– Nsenga Knight

Intentions and Actions

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) taught us that even if we can’t change injustice with our hands, we can speak against it, and if we cannot speak, we can still hold the right feeling against injustice in our hearts. The worth of our actions is not measured only by outcomes, but by the sincerity of our efforts. That is what allows each of us — activist, artist, elder, or student — to stand in our own way for justice.

Growing up in Brooklyn, I learned about the Holocaust from my Jewish teachers who said, “Never again.” I understood this statement to be a contract against genocide and oppression that we as humanity vowed to uphold. Today, watching the suffering in Gaza, I feel the deep betrayal of that promise when silence meets oppression. The lesson was never meant to be selective — it was a vow to defend humanity, no matter who is suffering. 

This commitment shapes my art, like my limited edition print Malcolm X in Turban. Malcolm’s transformation and courage to speak truth in a very difficult – both at home and across continents, inspires me to lift up voices that cannot be silenced. These works are not just portraits — they are declarations.

As a Black Muslim woman, a daughter of the Caribbean, an American living in Qatar, and an artist whose work is rooted in resistance, I carry multiple histories and vantage points. Some of these bring proximity to the violence of colonialism; others give me distance and safety. But safety is not a shield for silence — it is a responsibility. My role is to be a truth-teller, to resist oppression and interrupt propaganda, to speak, to write, and to stand with those on the frontlines — whether in Gaza, in refugee camps, in classrooms, or in public squares.

Admiring Courageous Voices

To my peers in art institutions, academia, curation, and writing: you may fear losing your career if you speak out. But what is the cost of silence? Whose lives are you willing to trade for your comfort? If you have a platform, an audience, or resources — use them. If you can create, teach, fund, program, or protest — do it for a more just world.

The propaganda is unmasked. The cruelty is televised. Journalists — from Shireen Abu Akleh to Anas al-Sharif — are being deliberately killed or otherwise silenced. And yet, truth finds its way. History will remember the choices we make now.

We can either uphold injustice, or we can resist it. Your role matters. My role matters. Together, we can ensure that silence does not win. Whether through protest, art, teaching, writing, or simply standing beside those who suffer, every voice matters. What’s yours?